The American West in 1899 was far from peaceful; bar fights and gun battles were common, and various gangs ran rampant, attempting to reignite the final darkness before civilization fully arrived.
Though the O'Driscoll Gang might seem like pushovers in the game, constantly being hunted by the Van der Linde Gang, in reality, during this era, the O'Driscoll Gang was already considered among the top-tier gangs.
As for groups like the Howling Wolf Gang, they were more like a military-style black-glove force.
Yet, in such a dark era, the Van der Linde Gang remained firmly at the pinnacle of the times. Even if Dutch indeed had some mental health issues, it's undeniable that he reached the apex of gang leadership.
Robbing banks, killing lawmen, assassinating oil tycoons, openly defying Pinkerton Detectives, and even causing a ruckus in Saint Denis—this group was truly composed of capable individuals.
Now, however, they had fallen silent for a short period, which only made people feel more afraid.
"Oh, gentlemen, please stop fighting!" A bar staff member nervously stepped forward to mediate between the two men brawling in the tavern.
A crowd gathered around, cheering them on, watching, laughing, and some even took the opportunity to pickpocket.
Dutch and Arthur sat at their table, eating and watching this spectacle unfold.
"Damn it, stay away from my wife from now on! You damn bastard!"
"Hahahaha, you idiot, I'll be visiting your wife more often!"
Classic dialogue and plot, which Dutch listened to with great interest.
This scene was common in the game, and seeing it in real life was quite amusing.
Their fight wasn't particularly intense, but being in a bar, it still attracted the attention of lawmen.
They watched as the arriving lawmen mediated the conflict between the two men.
Dutch and Arthur finished their meal.
"Alright, Arthur, let's go. We should go see Sheriff Malloy. I hope he doesn't make me want a new sheriff, sir."
Dutch wiped his mouth with his napkin, then neatly folded the pristine napkin and put it back into his pocket.
It was strange; this man, who dared not embrace civilization, was extremely civilized in his daily life, even to the point of being considered a noble gentleman.
Arthur stood up with Dutch, then walked out through the crowd in the bar.
"Arthur, bring the horses over."
Dutch instructed.
"Alright, Dutch!"
Arthur nodded, then walked towards the hitching post in front of the bar to fetch the horses.
Dutch, meanwhile, strode forward towards Sheriff Malloy, who was still standing at the police station entrance.
"Hoo hoo hoo, hello, Sheriff, sir."
Dutch walked towards Sheriff Malloy with a wide smile.
Seeing Dutch's obviously wealthy attire, Sheriff Malloy put away his usual disdainful gaze for the poor, then said with a slightly respectful tone, "Hello, sir, may I help you?"
"Oh, Sheriff, sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Arthur, Arthur Callahan!" Dutch's face was full of smiles. He extended his hand to shake Sheriff Malloy's hand, a common gesture between gentlemen.
Malloy extended his hand and grasped Dutch's. As their palms met, a peculiar sensation welled up from his palm.
"Hiss!" Sheriff Malloy slightly lowered his head for a glance, and saw a ten-dollar bill peeking out between their fingers, which sent a jolt through Sheriff Malloy's body.
Good heavens, ten dollars! What did that mean?
It meant that his family's quality of life would improve for the entire month, even allowing them to eat meat at every meal.
Damn it, this ten dollars was almost half of his monthly salary! (America was developing rapidly during this period—World War I was the war where America defeated old empires to become a new one. Three years later, John could earn three dollars a day, but now, one might earn only one dollar or even less. In reality, with a purchasing power of five hundred yuan per dollar, earning eighty cents a day was already a high salary.)
Sheriff Malloy's body instantly stiffened, and his eyes even shone brightly.
A big shot! This was definitely a big shot! Could it be a wealthy person from the East who had come over?
Having been bribed, his demeanor naturally became subservient.
The calm respect on Malloy's face instantly changed; he even broke into a wide smile, bending at the waist.
"Hehehe, Mr. Callahan! My name is Malloy, Malloy Curtis. Oh, please forgive my impoliteness, Mr. Callahan! This way, please.
Jack! Damn it, hurry back and pour Mr. Callahan some tea!"
Sheriff Malloy scurried to open the police station door, then stood at the entrance, bending at the waist and gesturing for Dutch to enter.
For these wealthy individuals, even if Malloy was a sheriff, he was merely a low-ranking figure in America, as Valentine, a small Western town, was utterly insignificant.
"Hehehe, Sheriff Malloy, you're too kind. Oh, by the way, my companion might come in later; remember to leave the door open for him."
Dutch smiled and nodded, then walked into the cramped police station.
The economy here was indeed poor; even as a sheriff, the benefits he could gain were pitifully small.
Firstly, as a ranching town, every ranch owner had connections, and while none were particularly powerful, none could be easily controlled by a small sheriff like Malloy. The rest were all workers, living and eating on farms, rarely coming out, so there were no opportunities for exploitation.
This place was still the West, with many gangs. They could manage smaller gangs, but if people didn't want to heed them, they didn't have to, as everyone had a gun.
They dared not manage the large gangs; for example, if the O'Driscoll Gang were to engage in a real fight with Valentine's lawmen, it would undoubtedly be a disaster for Valentine.
Thus, even as a sheriff, Malloy had no illicit gains to pocket.
Therefore, Dutch's gesture of giving him ten dollars immediately captured his attention.
Giving money meant there was a demand, and demand meant there was profit to be made.
While he dared not harbor ill thoughts towards these wealthy individuals, making a profit was inevitable.
So, Malloy, with a beaming smile, quickly invited Dutch to sit in the main seat within the police station, then personally took the tea handed over by a lawman and respectfully poured a cup for Dutch.
"Mr. Callahan, I'm truly sorry, our police station is simply too poor. Please make do with this tea."
Malloy rubbed his hands, embarrassed, fearing that his hospitality might be insufficient and offend Dutch.
Dutch smiled faintly, "Alright, Sheriff, sir, don't be so formal. I've come here mainly to discuss two matters with you."
"Please, please!" Malloy nodded repeatedly.
Dutch's fingers tapped on the table, each tap feeling as if it struck Malloy's heart, making him unconsciously more obsequious and humble.